


Where The Lines Bleed

by paperstorm



Series: Deleted Scenes [73]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Tame Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 01:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tag for <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1222599/">'After School Special', 4x13</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where The Lines Bleed

**Author's Note:**

> Fic contains dialogue from the episode After School Special, it belongs to Eric Kripke and Andrew Dabb.
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/204/dsb4.jpg/)  
> 

Sam glares at the back of Dirk’s head as he walks away with Mr. Wyatt. It took all the self control he has to stay down and not attack the freakin’ jerk. But he’s glad he didn’t. If he did, this would just be another school on the list where Sam was the weird one, the one people whisper about, the kid that didn’t fit in. He’s not going to tell Dean about it either because Dean _will_ track Dirk down and beat the crap out of him, but because Sam’s never been lucky at anything, Dean chooses that moment to walk by with that blond girl – Amanda, Barry said – on his arm.  
  
“Hey Sammy,” he says, clapping Sam on the shoulder, and then he looks around and notices that everyone’s looking at Sam. He turns to him, his eyes widening and the muscles in his face twisting in anger when he sees the bruise that must be starting to show on Sam’s jaw. “What the hell, Sam? What happened?”  
  
“Nothing,” Sam mutters, leaning down to pick up his backpack.  
  
“It sure as shit doesn’t look like nothing! Did somebody hit you?” Dean cries. He reaches out and grabs Sam’s face to inspect the bruise.  
  
Sam’s cheeks burn and he jerks his chin out of Dean’s grasp. Even more people are staring now.  
  
“Are you okay?” Amanda asks him softly, her eyebrows scrunched together like she actually cares.  
  
“I’m _fine_ ,” Sam says rudely, putting his backpack on and turning to walk away in the other direction.  
  
Predictably, Dean follows him. Sam ignores his questions until they get outside and across the football field, where Dean basically wrestles him onto the bleachers and forces Sam to tell him what happened. Sam doesn’t want to, but he does anyway, because Dean won’t shut up about it.  
  
“That kid’s dead,” Dean mutters angrily, once Sam gives him the gist of what went down.  
  
“Dean,” Sam sighs.  
  
“I’m gonna rip his lungs out!” Dean yells.  
  
“It’s not a big deal.”  
  
Dean raises his eyebrows. “Not a big deal? Sammy, look at yourself! If Dad was here – ”  
  
“He’s not,” Sam points out. He never is.  
  
“Well I am! And as soon as I’m finished with that dick – ”  
  
“Shut up, okay?” Sam snaps. “I don’t need your help.”  
  
“That’s right, you don’t. You could have torn him apart. So why didn’t you?”  
  
“Because I don’t want to be the freak for once, Dean! I want to be normal.”  
  
“So taking a beating, that’s normal?” Dean asks. It _is_ normal, actually, Dean just doesn’t know that because he’s always been one of the cool kids. He isn’t weird like Sam is.  
  
“Any word from Dad?” Sam asks, to change the subject.  
  
Dean checks the phone Dad left them and then puts it back into his pocket. “He called this morning. Said he’s going to be another week at least. We weren’t supposed to be here this long.”  
  
“At least you’ve got Amanda. She’s cool.” The words hurt in Sam’s chest on the way out. He doesn’t want Dean to need a girl. He just wants it to be the two of them, like it used to be.  
  
“Dude, she wants me to meet her parents,” Dean says. “I don’t do parents.”  
  
Sam can’t help rolling his eyes. Only in Dean’s messed-up mind would meeting some girl’s parents be that bad. Dean stares down werewolves and shapeshifters and all kinds of horrible monsters all the time, but the idea of meeting parents has him scared. It’s so stupid.  
  
“Let’s just go back to the motel, okay?”  
  
Dean frowns. “The day’s not over.”  
  
“I don’t wanna be here anymore.”  
  
“ _You_ wanna cut class?” Dean asks with raised eyebrows. Sam doesn’t answer, and Dean seems to be able to tell that Sam’s upset, because he just nods. “Kay. Hookie it is.”  
  
Sam hops down off the bleachers and slings his backpack over his shoulders, and starts to walk away. Dean jogs to catch up with him, and the throws an arm around Sam’s shoulders as they walk. Sam can’t help smiling a little.  
  
Dean keeps his arm around Sam the whole time as they walk the five blocks to the motel. When they get there, Sam opens the door and goes inside, shrugging out of his jacket and going over to the couch. He drops his backpack on the coffee table and takes out his History textbook, flopping onto the couch and opening it. Dean follows him, sitting down in the chair that faces Sam. He looks at him, but Sam doesn’t look back.  
  
There are feelings, lately, that Sam doesn't really get. Most of them are about Dean. When Dean smiles at him, touches him, chooses to spend time with him instead of a girl, Sam feels something in his head and in his gut, and doesn’t know what it is. It scares him a little. Dean’s always been the center of his universe, the most important thing in Sam’s whole world. Dean looks out for him, teaches him, protects him. Dean makes sure Sam has enough to eat, clothes that aren’t too shabby, a place to sleep with good locks on the doors and heating that works. Sometimes Sam complains about it because Dean gets all controlling and annoying, but secretly Sam wouldn’t want it to be different. He loves how much Dean takes care of him.  
  
Lately, though, it’s started to feel different. When Dean looks at him, Sam feels this … he doesn’t even know how to describe it. A tingling, kinda, below his bellybutton. And this weird feeling everywhere else in his body that makes him want to hug Dean, just to feel Dean’s arms around him. It’s kinda freaky.  
  
Watching Dean all his life, Sam keeps assuming that one day or another he's going to start noticing girls the way Dean does – although he's kind of been hoping that doesn't happen because girls seem to Sam like a lot more trouble than they're worth. For every girl Dean achieves what he calls 'scoring' with, there seems to be three or four who end up either screaming at him in the hallway at school and embarrassing him, or declaring through dramatic tears that they hate him when he has to leave town. It's never Dean’s fault they have to leave. The life they live is Dad’s fault, not Dean’s. Sam doesn't get why these girls think it's okay to fall in love with Dean even though he tells them not to since he'll only be around for a week, and then blame him for leaving when he already said that's what would happen. Girls, as far as Sam can tell, all seem pretty weird and crazy. Uncle Bobby would call them ‘touched in the head’. They snap back and forth between emotions like rubber bands. Sam doesn't know how anyone ever figures them out. He doesn't know why anyone would want to, and it's starting to really bother him that Dean’s so interested in them in the last year or two. Sam only wants Dean to be interested in him.  
  
“So c’mon, tell me,” Dean says, poking Sam’s thigh with his socked foot.  
  
“Tell you what?” Sam asks without looking up from his book.  
  
“Why you didn’t kick that jerk’s ass into next week.”  
  
Sam shrugs. “Already told you.”  
  
“Yeah, but it was a dumb reason.”  
  
Sam doesn’t answer. He turns the page and keeps on pretending to read about The Plague.  
  
“If I hear that he put hands on you again and you don’t even try to defend yourself, I _am_ going to rip his lungs out,” Dean mutters.  
  
“Dean, I just …” Sam sighs. “Like I said. I don’t wanna be the freak. I beat Dirk up, next thing you know everyone in the whole school is talking about the freaky, shrimpy new kid with the crazy ninja skills.”  
  
“And that’s a bad thing? Chicks dig ninja skills.”  
  
“I just wanna blend in, okay? We’re gonna be here for another week, isn’t that what Dad said? I wanna go to school in the morning and come back here in the afternoon and have nobody notice me.”  
  
“Look, the kid is a bully, right?” Dean says. “You think you’re the only one he’s ever been a dick to? Assholes like that get away with it because no one ever stands up to them.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“So _someone_ should stand up to him.”  
  
Sam huffs. “And why does that person have to be me? We won’t even be here long enough for it to matter. I’ll just stay out of his way for the next few days.”  
  
“So don’t do it for you. Do it for all the nerds who’ll still be here after we’re gone.” Dean grins and kicks gently at Sam’s leg again. “Be a hero.”  
  
Sam rolls his eyes. “Like you?”  
  
“Damn straight. It’s an awesome feeling.”  
  
“I don’t wanna be a hero. I just wanna be normal.”  
  
Dean snorts. “Think the ship’s kinda already sailed on that one, kiddo.”  
  
He’s right about that, and it makes Sam’s jaw clench in anger.  
  
“Hey,” Dean says, noticing that Sam’s upset again. He gets up and sits next to Sam on the couch. He puts his arm back over Sam’s shoulders and shakes him a little. “That’s a _good_ thing, you know. All those kids at that school, at every school we’ve ever been to, I mean, what do they ever do? They have baseball practice and homework and the most important thing that ever happens to them is some shitty school dance with crepe paper on the walls and the teachers not letting anybody dance too close. Their lives are lame, Sam. At least we get to do something cool.”  
  
Sam sniffs and shrugs again. He puts the book down on the cushion beside him. It’s not like Dean was actually going to let him study anyway. “Guess I just don’t really like hunting as much as you do.”  
  
“We got each other too, y’know. That’s a good thing too.”  
  
Sam chews on his bottom lip, his heartbeat speeding up a little. “It is?”  
  
“Yeah, man. I talk to kids in my classes, and they don’t give two shits about their little brothers and sisters. You and me have someone who always has our back. That’s more than a lot of people have.”  
  
Sam smiles a little, the thought warming him up inside, and then he tries to hide it from Dean. “You gonna go out with that girl again?”  
  
Dean shrugs this time. “Whatever. Probably not.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Like you said. We’re not gonna be here for much longer anyway. What’s the point.”  
  
“We’re never anywhere for very long,” Sam points out. “It’s never stopped you before.”  
  
“Maybe I’d rather hang out with you,” Dean says, ruffling Sam’s hair.  
  
“Dude, cut it out,” Sam complains, but that feeling is back, in his stomach. He leans into his brother, tucking his head under Dean’s chin. Dean pulls Sam in a little closer and wraps his other arm around him, and Sam’s skin goes all prickly.  
  
“You know I’ll knock that kid’s teeth out if you want me to, right?”  
  
“Yeah, I know.” Sam turns his face into Dean’s neck and closes his eyes, the feeling of Dean pressed up against him making his brain go fuzzy. “Thanks.”  
  
“It’s – ”  
  
“Your job,” Sam finishes. “I know.”  
  
____  
  
Sam’s heart sinks as the Impala pulls up with Dad in it. Dean jogs over to it like he’s never been so happy to see anything, but Sam drags his feet. Barry waves to Sam out a second floor window as he walks toward the Impala, and Sam waves back sadly. He really, really doesn’t want to leave. He gets the feeling he’s the only real friend Barry’s ever had. He climbs reluctantly into the backseat, and Dad doesn’t even say anything to them as he starts to drive away. Not about the hunt he was on, or about how their time alone was, or anything. Sometimes Sam gets the feeling Dad doesn’t care about them very much, like they’re just … in his way.  
  
He stops for gas on their way out of town, and as he’s paying for it, Dean gets out of the passenger’s seat and climbs into the back with Sam.  
  
“You okay, kiddo?” he asks softly, and the funny feeling comes back again.  
  
Sam nods. “Yeah,” he mumbles, knowing he isn’t a very good liar. At least not to Dean.  
  
“You sure?” Dean reaches over and puts his hand on the back of Sam’s neck, squeezing a little. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like what’s been goin’ on with you lately. You’ve been … I don’t know. Different.”  
  
Sam swallows. He _is_ different, he just doesn’t know why. And he doesn’t know how to tell Dean that suddenly glances and smiles and touches that used to just be _them_ make Sam feel all weird and squirmy and like he doesn’t belong in his own skin. It’s like the feeling Sam’s stomach gets on those rides that go up a big pole and then drop you down really fast, like the one they rode last summer in Texas. If it isn’t normal to feel like that, Dean might make fun of him.  
  
Dad gets back into the car and Dean lets his hand fall away. The skin on Sam’s neck feels cold without it, and he wishes Dean would put it back.  
  
“Everything alright, boys?” Dad asks, raising an eyebrow at them through the rearview mirror.  
  
“Yes, sir,” Dean answers.  
  
Dad’s lips purse like they do when he’s mad, and then he looks just at Dean and asks, “You gonna stay back there?”  
  
“If that’s okay, sir,” Dean says, and Dad looks away and mutters something Sam doesn’t hear, but then he turns the car on and pulls out of the gas station.  
  
Dean grins and winks at Sam over the foot of space between them, and Sam manages to smile back.  
  
“You wanna play hangman?” he asks, digging a notebook and a pencil out of his backpack.  
  
“You only wanna play that ‘cause you always win, brainiac.”  
  
“So I’ll pick easy words.” Sam starts drawing the gallows and thinking of a word.  
  
“Fine.” Dean slides over so he’s sitting closer to Sam. “Winner gets the first shower.”  
  
“Deal.”


End file.
